


Feast

by Bead



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Everybody Lives, F/M, Married Sex, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Romance, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you heard about pregnancy hormones increasing certain drives?  Well, Billa has hit that part of pregnancy.  Thorin does not mind at all. </p><p>For ssilcatt, based on a prompt from <a href="http://ssilcatt.tumblr.com/post/60116851667/bead-bead-replied-to-your-post-speaking-of-plot">here.</a>  To cheer her up after a most unpleasant dream about a pregnant Billa.   I'm not sure who the original commenter who began the cheer was, so please do let me know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feast

**Author's Note:**

> Should absolutely, positively be considered a standalone. No spoilers for any story in progress. That I know of. At this point in time. 
> 
> Should also absolutely, positively be considered a reward to myself and others for the current slow build I'm putting us through in Pearl of the Evening - The Rewrite.  
> ~~~~~~  
> Glossary:
> 
>  **ghivashel** \- treasure of all treasures. 
> 
> Many thanks to the Khuzdul Scholar for his dictionary.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~

Thorin is frowning over a report on their available stores for the winter and wondering what, exactly was so important about it that his senechal found it necessary for him to go over at the end of a very long week, when he spots the tiny addition to the calculations: _Anticipated infants by spring: eight_ and the increase in food needed for each mother, each family. 

His hands shake, just a little, his heart swelling with joy, pride, and yes, gratitude to Balin for the reminder after a long week wrangling with the merchant’s guilds and hammering out yet another trade agreement with Thranduil. 

The hope of tiny lives is more precious than all their treasure, and one of those babes, may Mahal’s hammer protect them all, will be theirs. He attends the figures more carefully, adding a note for Balin to question the huntmaster if a few more deer would thin the returning herds too far, and a reminder that both Thranduil and Bard had offered to trade more meat and fish if needed. 

Then his eyes light on the figures for the livestock Billa had insisted they raise for themselves, rechecks the meat and game need and is grateful anew. He scans the figures yet again of all their harvests, wanting to make sure that the rising hope, the rising conviction in his heart - five long years and they have done it, save the fledgling fruit and nuts orchards, they are a self-sustaining city - and to make sure, takes up a scrap of parchment to calculate for himself, though he knows at least six have checked this over. 

He is lost to the figures falling neatly beneath his pen - in two years they will not need fruit and nuts from Mirkwood, at this rate - when soft arms wrap around his shoulders and Billa leans in to press her smooth cheek to his. 

“It’s late, my love. What has you so engrossed?”

“Running through calculations of stores for the winter,” he replies, not quite ready to share the good news, not until he is absolutely sure. The credit will go a great deal to her and her skill, her resources from the Shire, her rapport with odd wizard Radagast, to renew the land around them from Smaug’s desolation. He takes up one of her hands and kisses the palm, distracted, as he continues to write. 

She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and presses closer to whisper. “Can the numbers wait for morning, my dear grocer?” Her voice is full of promise, and her breasts are pressed, warm and tempting, against his back. Suddenly, he longs to weigh their fullness in his palms, new from week to week, and leans back into her embrace. 

“I am no grocer, _ghivashel_ , I assure you,” he replies, this time kissing her hand with his full attention, brushing his lips over her palm until it trembles against his lips. He closes his eyes and turns his head to inhale her scent, rose and spice, honey and sunshine. She kisses just under his ear, a known weak spot. He hums, approving. 

“Then what are you?” she whispers, and he turns in his chair to face her, to take her face in his hands and kiss her slowly. 

“At the moment, besieged by a temptress.” 

Billa nips at his mouth, her eyes full of mischief. “And are you swayed, my lover?” 

“Unclear, as of yet,” Thorin murmurs against her lips, and she leans through his hands to take his mouth gently, to kiss him sweet and fierce, her tongue a delicious, teasing slide. He cannot help but groan softly, always relishing when she is so confident with him. She leans back and raises her eyebrows; a challenge. 

“Hmmm,” he replies. The chair is now too small to hold the two of them and the babe comfortably, so he rises, scoops her into his arms to the music of her breathless laughter, and carries her to their bed. 

Once there, he settles her astride his lap, and her eyelids flutter as she feels him, half-ready for her, through his thin sleep pants. She rocks forward slowly, and he stills her with heavy hands on her hips. She looks at him through her lashes, unties his robe, pushes it off, and strokes bared shoulders. 

“You seem swayed,” she says, and rocks against him once more. He gives her a look to still her, and she obeys, both of them knowing that holding still, feeling him ready beneath her, will only fuel her desire. 

“It would seem so, wife, when even without firelight, you glow,” he murmurs, slowly opening her robe, and holding her gaze with his. He strokes down the narrow strip of skin at her throat where her nightdress is unbuttoned, and her breath catches. “And even more beautiful yet with the light from it gilding your skin.” 

Color rises high on her cheeks at words and his touch, and her eyes are luminous, delighted. He unbuttons each remaining button, allowing his fingers to brush against the fine linen, but not her skin, except for the tiny glance of his finger as he pushes the button free. When the final button falls, she trembles, clutching at his shoulders for balance, her eyes falling shut as she waits for his touch. The babe growing within her has made her skin all the more sensitive, more responsive, and it is all he can do not to devour her, but it is even sweeter to take her slowly, to enjoy each flicker of desire. 

“Look at me,” he says, voice low and deep, and she keens softly, yearning into his barely-there touch, her back arching as she opens her eyes. He rewards her by opening the gown until it is just barely covering her breasts, and brushes his hand from her throat down to the beginning swell of her belly, and back up, brushing his knuckles against her skin. He slides his hand around her neck into her hair, and her head falls back, pressing into his palm like a cat, and her breasts rise as she arches again, nipples a shadow beneath her gown. He swallows hard, his mouth watering. 

“Billa,” he calls to her, and she meets his eyes again, trembling anew, breath ragged in her throat. He keeps his hand in her hair and strokes her bared skin again, watching her. 

“You glow and shine for me, _ghivashel_ , the flush on your skin like the luster of a pearl.” He cups his hand around her breast, touch more warmth than pressure, and she whimpers softly, her blunt nails biting into his shoulders, body quivering. Thorin touches her then, weighing her breast in his palm, warm and heavy through the linen, and slides his hand under the more generous curve of it, learning the new shape. 

She sighs, and her hips pulse slowly, unconsciously, and he pushes away his own desire to have this, watch this hunger take her, have her coming apart for him. He lets his palm touch her nipple, hard as a ruby, as he brushes his hand back and forth. Her lashes flutter as she fights to keep her eyes open and on his. 

“Thorin,” Billa whispers, voice strained. “Please.” 

“What is it you command, my temptress?” 

“Touch me.” 

“I am.” He fits his fingers around her nipple, but no more. Her hips stutter and she slumps forward, her belly nudging him, their babe, her love; this is his. His control slips for a moment and he presses up into her. She is wet enough that he can feel it through his sleep pants, only the damp, clinging linen keeping him from her. Her rich scent rises around them. He groans. "How can I not reach for such," he draws an unsteady breath and allows himself to move, just a few times more. "A rare. Glorious. Gem." 

Her head falls back as she presses down, sliding against him, and her small fist hits his shoulder. “Thorin,” she gasps, shaking. 

“Look at me, Billa.” 

She is glowing with arousal and frustration, her eyes hazy. “What?” she snaps, though her voice breaks halfway through.

“What is your wish? My mouth, my hand….” 

She hits his shoulder again. “You!” she growls, and covers the hand on her breast with her own and presses in. He shrugs her off and slips his hand inside her gown, curving around her flushed skin, and she pants with relief as he gathers her breast in his hand and presses in firmly, as she wished, to ease what she tells him is a near-constant ache. Biting her lip, her head drops forward and she moves against him again, little rocking thrusts.

“Let me see you. Please.” 

Billa looks at him, nearly lost in pleasure: flushed and gorgeous;hair tumbling around her shoulders; hunger and love so bright in her eyes, and he rocks up into her as his fingers tighten around her nipple. He cannot help but lean in to to kiss her, eyes still open, and pinches just a bit more firmly. She tries, but her eyes flutter shut as she takes her pleasure, shattering in his arms with a heart-deep groan, and he must take her mouth. She surges against him, kisses ravenous, clutching at his shoulders and pressing as close as she can, tremors of pleasure still shaking her. 

Thorin brushes aside her gown to take her other breast in hand and worries both nipples gently. She peaks for him again, and again, crying out against his mouth. He catches her as she starts to sway clumsily, losing her balance, and she slumps in his arms, mouth pressed against his collarbone. 

“I am going to tease you until you _cry_ ,” she vows, voice wavering. 

“I look forward to that,” he says in the voice she loves best, low and dark, in her ear. She shivers happily and swats him, hands lazy and slow. 

“But not until you get me out of this nightgown and do more horrible things to me.” 

Thorin shifts her and brushes his lips against her damp temple. “Was that _so_ horrible?” 

“It was terrible. More, please.” 

Laughing, he strips her out of her nightclothes, and then removes his own, barely able to stop touching her to do so. Her hands wander across his skin all the while, as she kisses everything within reach. Catching her mouth with his, he lays her against the pillows and curls beside her to kiss her, to stroke her breasts, her belly, feeling her start to rise for him again. He kisses his way down her body, brushing feather-light over her nipples, knowing they are far too sensitive for further attention right now. She moves restlessly against the bed.

He kisses the mound of her belly, and feels the babe stir under his hands. Thorin glances up to see Billa’s shining face, and she covers his hands with hers. She smiles at him, joyful and serene. 

“I love you so, my treasure.” He kisses her belly again. “My treasures.” 

“And we you, my heart,” she says softly. “Me especially. Love me some more?” She wiggles her hips playfully and he snorts, and presses his mouth to her skin once again. 

“Ravenous one.” 

“Tease you. 'Til you cry,” she promises. 

“Mmmhmm,” he murmurs, completing his path of kisses to press his mouth, finally, into her rich, waiting heat. She sighs and arches against his lips, already shivering. 

Thorin hums, deep in delight, more content than he ever imagined. He holds his greatest treasures in his hands, his home is once again warm and full and safe for the winter. Spring will bring more joy and new life, and until then, he will wait on his love, and they will feast. 

~~~

*Fin*

**Author's Note:**

> And at this point, my eyes rolled back in my head and I passed out. Srsly. A girl can only take so much.


End file.
